Fabrice B. Poussin
Image: Unsplash, downloaded (https://unsplash.com/photos/AvjdXaMj9dg) 09.09.2023.
Cry, please, cry until you dry…
It was in the neighborhood of forty
on the calendar of his years
a time he was told when there is no space
for sadness under the deep wrinkles.
At twenty and a few minutes
they made a spectacle of his pain
laughing when his smile turned to a frown
his face twitching with every word he read.
Taking another step into the deserted hall
listening to the passion of the rock star
as she cried for the love she never found
he feared that soon too he would go to sleep
He could take with him all the same wondrous
kindness he could see in those moments
when hearts flowed freely in film
the simple phrases that moved mountains.
If only someone had listened as they saw the pearls
dropping as they soiled shirts and ground
to give the old man a hug and comfort him
so he felt human at least once before his final exhale.
About the Author: Poussin is a professor of French and English. His work in poetry and photography has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and hundreds of other publications worldwide. Most recently, his collections In Absentia, If I Had a Gun, and Half Past Life were published in 2021, 2022, and 2023 by Silver Bow Publishing.